


Reminiscing

by Elapid_Hunter



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Dreams and Nightmares, Drinking, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Late Night Conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 20:55:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18484192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elapid_Hunter/pseuds/Elapid_Hunter
Summary: Rocket has trouble sleeping most nights. He finds out he's not alone.





	Reminiscing

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at fanifction, so please be gentle! hope you all enjoy it! Set a brief amount of time after GOTG Vol. 2.

Nighttime on the  _Benatar_ was Rocket's least favorite part of the 24 Terran hour "day" Quill had insisted they follow on the ship. During the day, there were enough distractions to keep him busy. Repairs were constantly needed on the patchwork ship Quill had inherited from the Ravagers, Groot needed to be cared for, and the other Guardians were awake to keep him occupied with whatever they had all decided to do that day. At night however, as his teammates went to bed, Rocket was left to his own devices. He tried to keep himself busy tinkering on his latest projects or building bombs and other munitions for the team's next mission, but he could only go so long without giving in to his tiredness and drifting off into an uneasy slumber.  
  
It was rare for Rocket to sleep the whole night through; the Procyon was often bothered in his sleep by nightmares. Awful dreams of being abandoned on Berhert by a team who'd finally had enough of his insulting words and troublesome behavior, or watching them turn on him with insult after insult _("Worthless vermin." "Why did we even let you stay?" "You're not even worth the parts you were made from.") _. Worse than those however were the nightmares of memories. A cold steel table at his back, restraints digging into his wrists and ankles, the strong smell of antiseptic coming in from an over-tightened muzzle on his snout, and the painful cuts from scalpels wielded by masked faces with indifferent eyes as bright white lights blinded him from above. Other ones of a crashing ship and flaming debris as he sat dazed in the splintered remains of his best friend. More still of being tied to a chair, watching people get thrown one by one out of an airlock as your turn draws closer, powerless to stop any of it. It was easy enough to ignore the dreams that hadn't actually happened, or turned out differently, but the memories were what left him up at odd hours of the night.__  
  
It was after one of these nightmares that Rocket woke with a start. He'd been dreaming of a particularly painful surgery from his time in the lab on Halfworld. "Adjustments" to his leg structure after failing to beat whatever time the scientists had deemed acceptable for him to complete an obstacle course on two feet. He had tried to fight back, as he often did, but he was outnumbered, and the scientists tasked with prepping him for surgery had long handled stun sticks. It was no issue for them to simply prod him through the cage and grab him afterwards. He smelled burning fur and felt their gloved hands grab him roughly and pull him from the cage, his limbs hanging limp from the aftereffects of the shock. He was already strapped down to the table by the time he was able to talk.  
  
As the surgeons shaved the incision sites, Rocket had tried arguing with them that he could've passed the test if he weren't malnourished, or if they'd given him more time to recover from the previous surgery, or given him an adequate amount of rest time, but the men in white coats and surgical masks simply stared down at him with the same cold indifference he'd come to expect from them. Realizing that they were going to do whatever they wanted to him, he tried one last attempt to beg for some anesthetic, or at the very least painkillers to take the edge off. His pleas fell on deaf ears as the scientists fastened a muzzle over Rocket's snout. His breathing and heartbeat quickened as his eyes darted around the room, catching site of the various surgical implements being rolled by his legs. He managed a high pitched, pitiful whine as he felt the lead surgeon grab his left leg, followed by muffled screams of agony as the surgeon quickly broke the bones in his calf. His vision began to grow dark around the edges as tears welled in his eyes. He heard the heart monitor spike off to his side as the pain overwhelmed him. Rocket felt a burning, slicing pain as they pulled a long line through muscle with a scalpel, and mercifully passed out as his other leg was broken in the same manner.  
  
Bolting into a sitting position from sleep after this unsettling recollection, Rocket could feel his heart pounding in his chest. His breathing was shallow, rapid and uncontrollable, and he had a throbbing pain in his head. There was a bitter, sour taste in his dry mouth as he closed it to swallow, fighting back bile that was threatening to come up. As his fear subsided and he regained control over his breathing, Rocket slowly rolled out of his bed and planted his bare feet on the cold floor below him. He took shaky steps through the dark room, heading for the exit. Pain radiated up from his feet with each step, reminding the sleep-deprived mechanic even further of that particular day on the table. He pressed his right hand into the faintly glowing fingerprint scanner by his door. It parted in the middle, receding into the walls at the side with a faint hydraulic hiss. He stumbled through the door quickly into the hallway, letting it close behind him. His shadow danced in the faint glow of soft-white lights along the ceiling as he made his way into the bathroom. Not bothering to turn on the light, Rocket agilely leapt onto the edge of the sink, catching a glimpse of his ragged-looking reflection in the mirror of the medicine cabinet as he felt around for painkillers. After finding the bottle he was after and palming a few of the pills out of the container, Rocket popped them into his mouth, washing them down quickly with water he cupped from the sink in his free hand. He rubbed some cold water on his face before turning the water off and hopping down from the sink.  
  
Unwilling to go back to his bed and try sleeping again, Rocket decided to head upstairs into the kitchen for a snack and some more water. Deftly jumping onto the counter, he fished a glass and a couple of ration bars from the cabinet overhead. He filled the glass and gulped the water down greedily, feeling it quench his parched throat. Refilling the glass, Rocket sat on the edge of the counter and downed his meal, finishing off the second glass of water before climbing off of the counter. Deciding that watching the stars was a better idea than tossing and turning for the rest of the night, he made his way up the stairs and into the cockpit. Standing on the upper level, Rocket admired the sight of deep space. They were far from any planets, just the yellow glow of thousands of stars broken up by the many colors of various nebulae over a pitch-black backdrop. The sight was always welcome to Rocket: ship controls and open space in front of him. Complete freedom, the direct opposite of the cages and white walls he grew up in. He slowly looked down, and was greeted by the sight of faintly glowing panels and instrument gauges, as well as Peter Jason Quill sitting in the pilot's seat.  
  
_Ah, shit. I didn't think he'd be in here! Maybe I can just back out and he'll never know_ -  
  
"Oh, hey Rocket! I didn't hear you come in. What are you doing up, man? It's like, super late right now." Rocket's thoughts were interrupted by Quill's voice cutting through the silence of the formerly still night. Quill pulled his earbuds out as he spoke, a small smile on his face and a half-empty bottle of liquor in front of him.  
  
  
  
"Hey, Quill. I, um, was just walking around, and... stopped here, uh..." Rocket stumbled over his words, caught off guard and still feeling a little shaken up from earlier that night.  
  
  
  
"Well, did you maybe want to sit down, or are you cool with just standing in the doorway?" Quill said, gesturing to the seat next to him.  
  


____

  
Rocket stood for a few seconds, considering how awkward it would look if he just turned around and bolted out of the door behind him.  _Why run though? It's just Quill, and it's not like I was going back to bed anyway. Maybe some of that booze he's got would help me get fall asleep, at least._ He wordlessly accepted the offer and hopped in the seat beside Quill.  
  


  
"So... Trouble sleeping?" Quill asked, leaning towards Rocket slightly. Getting a better look at the Terran, Rocket could see red, slightly puffy eyes staring back at him. Quill had been crying, and going off of the slight slur to his voice and his slouched posture, he'd been drinking on that bottle for a good chunk of time.  
  


  
"No, Star-Munch, I leave my warm, comfortable bed and climb up to the cockpit to sit in these hard leather seats every night for  _fun._ " Rocket replied, his tone dripping with his usual sarcasm.  
  
  
  
That got a small chuckle from Quill, as he turned back to face the stars ahead. He took a swig from his bottle, before passing it over to Rocket without looking away from the windshield. The smaller guardian hesitated for a second before taking the bottle in both of his paws. The liquor went down rough, clearly very potent. he sat the bottle in the chair between his legs before looking over at his friend. Quill was staring at the Zune he held over his lap, fidgeting with it in his hands. The device had been a gift from Yondu, the man who Quill realized was the father he had wanted all along, albeit a little too late. It was the way human was looking at the smooth, black device that made Rocket put the pieces together. Quill had come up there that night to mourn.  
  


  
_Oh, oh no. I should probably just go, let him handle this on his own. But he asked me to sit down, right? He must want to talk. I should say something, maybe I can make him feel better._  
  
  
  
"He was a good man." Rocket said it quietly, staring straight ahead, not wanting to see Quill as sad as he was.  
  
  
  
Quill turned his head to look at Rocket for a few seconds. "I thought you hated the old man. He wasn't exactly nice to any of you guys. Or me really, for that matter. Not until the end." He trailed off, leaning back into his seat.  
  
  
  
"Eh, I did, but we made up during the whole mutiny thing. He... He told me we had a lot in common. He tried his best, and he did the right thing, in the end. That's what counts. He earned my respect." Rocket said, trying his best to avoid choking up near the end of his sentence, taking another drink from the bottle before passing it back.  
  
  
  
Quill simply hummed in confirmation, taking a drink from the offered bottle and staring ahead. They let a few minutes go by in a comfortable silence, just watching the stars and passing the bottle between each other, before Quill broke the silence:  
  
  
  
"So, you never did say why you came up here. What's wrong? I know you weren't just taking a 2 AM stroll around the ship."  
  
  
  
"It's like you said, Star-Dork. Trouble sleeping, that's all."  
  
  
  
"You wanna talk about it?" Quill asked, glancing in Rocket's direction and taking another small sip before looking expectantly for a reply.  
  
  
  
"Not really, Quill. You know I ain't really the mushy 'talks about their feelings' type." Rocket said, making a gesture for the bottle and taking a long pull after it was handed over.  
  
  
  
"I'm just saying, man. It's not good to keep that shit bottled up. Is it nightmares? You can talk to me if you want, I won't tell anyone, I swear." Quill spoke patiently and sounded sincere.  
  
  
  
"I already said, I don't really want to talk about it, Quill. If you must know though, then yeah. I get nightmares sometimes. They're stupid, you shouldn't worry about it." Rocket replied, a little bit defensive after being pressed.  
  
  
  
Quill considered his words for a moment before responding. "Alright, I understand. I have nightmares sometimes, too. About Ego, and how wrong it went. How much worse it could've gone..." He paused for a few more seconds before standing.  
  
  
  
"Anyway, I'm gonna to go head back to my room, you can keep the bottle. If you change your mind, or maybe just don't want to be alone the rest of the night, you know where to find me. Door's unlocked." With that, Quill walked up the stairs and out of the room, leaving Rocket alone to his thoughts.  
  


  
The room now silent, Rocket finally had the cockpit to himself, as he had intended from the start of the night. But was it really what he wanted? If he waited, Quill would go to sleep, He would stay here, finish the rest of whatever alcohol the terran had brought out of his stash, go back to sleep, and maybe be back at square one; just like all the other nights he spent up and alone. Maybe talking wasn't the worst thing he could do, at the very least it would get Quill off of his back about his sleeping habits. He spent about 10 minutes contemplating the offer Quill had given him before making up his mind.

 

  
_Ah, what the hell. The humie did say he has nightmares sometimes, too. Maybe he's got some tips or somethin'.  
_

 

 

 __  
Rocket slid off the chair and left the cockpit, heading back down in the direction of the captain's room. It was conveniently position close to the cockpit, in the event that they needed to take off quickly. He paused just outside of the door, suddenly nervous about speaking with his teammate about anything personal. He took a few deep breaths before finally opening the door. Quill was lying sideways across the bed, legs facing the open door, earbuds in. He noticed the door open, Raising up and offering Rocket a seat for the second time that night, this time beside him on the bed. Rocket accepted, sitting down next to Quill and becoming very interested in the floor underneath his dangling feet. They sat like this for a minute before Quill silently offered up one of his earbuds to Rocket. He took the small speaker and put it in his ear as best he could. Despite the fit not being the best, he could hear the next song start up. A catchy tune about dancing, holding hands at concerts and growing old with someone you love. It sounded right up Quill's alley, if Rocket was being honest. As the song faded out, the Procyon worked up the nerve to speak.  
  


  
"You remember that night at the bar on Knowhere, right Quill? When I said I didn't ask to be... Made? Torn apart?" Quill nodded, and Rocket continued: "Well... I was awake for most of it. All the stuff they didn't need me to be entirely still for, at least."  
  
  
  
Rocket took a quick glance over at Quill, who looked horrified at the thought of that. "Heh, yeah. Anesthetic was too expensive to waste on 'subjects'. But anyway, I remember the surgeries, They're usually what I have nightmares about. There are others, too. But those are the worst." He said all this without making eye contact, simply staring at the floor, speaking about his own mutilation as if it were the most normal thing in the world.  
  
  
  
"Jesus Christ man, that's... That's horrible. I'm sorry you had to go through that." Quill said, sitting with his hands in his lap.  
  
  
  
"Yeah, I got payback though. They got sloppy, I managed to sneak the code to the lock while they weren't paying attention. I rigged their power generators to overload and stole the key to a ship. That place was a pile of rubble by the time I left the atmosphere." Rocket looked up towards Quill to punctuate his last sentence.  
  


  
Face-to-face now, Quill spoke: "Sucks that there's none left for us then. I'm sure Drax would have a great time ripping out some spines for you. You said there are others though. What are they?"  
  
  
  
"They, uh... It's stupid, just me bein' dumb, that's all." Rocket quickly looked away at that, back towards the ground.  
  
  
  
"C'mon buddy, it can't be stupid if it's bothering you that much. Just tell me, I promise I won't laugh." Quill looked at him expectantly, waiting for a reply.  
  
  
  
Rocket sat on the edge of the bed for a minute fidgeting with his hands before letting out a deep sigh. "Alright, fine. I get dreams sometimes about you guys leaving me behind somewhere, and not coming back. Like on Berhert or just a random city or something. Or you guys calling me names and kicking me off the team, telling me I'm worthless... Useless... And that the team would be better off without me." Rocket had tried to keep his composure, but couldn't keep a couple of tears from streaming down his face at the thought of any of that being true. "And now look at me, crying on your bed like a jackass." He finished, his breathing now shaky from crying.  
  
  
  
Quill tentatively reached out a hand, and slowly put his arm over Rocket's shoulders, resting his hand on the shoulder farthest from him. He half expected Rocket to pull away, or tell him to knock it off, but he only tensed up for a second before leaning into it, allowing Quill to gently pull him into a side hug.  
  
  
  
"Rocket, man, we would never do that to you. You're family to us, and a valuable part of this team. Absolutely no one here wants to see you gone, okay?" Quill was holding onto Rocket lightly, who was now leaning into his side with his eyes shut, trying his best to stop the tears from flowing.  
  
  
  
"I know, it's just that the whole Sovereign thing was my fault. If I didn't steal those batteries, none of this would've happened. It was all my fault, all of it..." Rocket choked the words about between sobs, admitting that he blamed himself for all of the events that had transpired recently.  
  
  
  
Quill tightened his hold a little bit before speaking: "Hey, no it wasn't, not at all! Ego was going to find us anyway, and if we didn't have those batteries we wouldn't have had anything on us strong enough to stop him. He would've used me as a power source and we wouldn't have been able to do anything to stop the Expansion from happening." Quill shook Rocket lightly, causing the smaller man to look up at him.  
  
"Look, we all make mistakes, and we've all put the team at risk before. Do I have to remind you of the time Drax drunk-dialed Ronan himself to come fight us on Knowhere? Or how about when I held us all up outside of the maximum security prison we had just busted out of for my Walkman? Things happened the way they did, and we can't change that. You just have to accept the way it worked out, and it honestly could've been so much worse. We all nearly died there, we would have if you didn't Jump all the way across the galaxy and make that bomb. That's the end of it." He finished, lightly rubbing circles into Rocket's shoulder, who responded by leaning into Quill further.  
  


  
They spent some time like that, with Quill holding on to Rocket and slowly rubbing his arm. The latter had composed himself, and eventually broke the silence that had developed between them.  
  
  
"Thanks Quill, for listening, and everything. I... Do feel a little better now." Rocket was leaning most of his weight into Quill's side at this point, the man responded by gently pulling them both down into a lying position.  
  
  
"No problem, buddy. If you ever need to talk again or just want some company, you can come in here anytime. I mean that. Just open the door, wake me up if you have to. I don't want you to have to deal with this alone anymore, okay?" Quill was now cradling Rocket against his side, stroking the soft fur on his head and neck. The cyborg raccoon usually objected to anyone touching him, let alone petting him the way Quill was, but the larger man had seemed genuine about wanting to help, and the repetitive motions of his hand smoothing down Rocket's fur was very calming to the mechanic. Rocket moved in closer to Quill, hugging him lightly around the chest. The warmth coming from his friend beside him and the gentle rise and fall of his chest soothed the tired engineer. He felt his eyelids getting heavy, and a rumbling purr in his chest that he would've killed anyone for mentioning. As he drifted off to sleep unmarred by memories of his past, he was thinking to himself that maybe having more talks with Quill in the future was a very, very good idea.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


* * *

 

 

 

 

  
  
  
  
Rocket woke up alone in a large bed, with ornate carvings of Terran creatures he'd been told were panthers watching over him. Fresh tears stung at his eyes as he realized he was seeking the comfort of someone who was with him only in dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This started off as basically just the little bit at the end, but then I decided to add to it, and it sort of became its own thing. If you want this to be happier then just entirely disregard the last sentence. Otherwise, join me in knowing that post-snap Rocket is probably an emotional wreck after finding out what happened on Titan. Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated. More may come, depending on how much free time I have and how well this is received. Also it's very late and I basically just looked over it for spelling errors before posting, so I apologize if it's a little rough. I'll look it over in the morning when I'm not so tired.


End file.
